


Separate Rooms

by genagirl



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst and Humor, Happy Ending, M/M, Misunderstanding, Sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 02:39:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/960602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genagirl/pseuds/genagirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon sees something in Blair's eyes that he's never seen before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Separate Rooms

Separate Rooms

by gena 

 

“Ellison, you’re with me.” Simon handed over a key to the big

detective, “Sandburg, you’re in 1613.”

 

“Th-there must be some mistake,” Blair stammered. “I always share

with Jim.” 

 

Banks shot him a quelling look, “no mistake. You’re bunking with the

other boys.” He gestured to a group of young officers and detectives standing

around the elevator. “Do you good, kid. Jim and I are too old for dorm

antics. Right, Jim?”

 

Ellison frowned. “I don’t think this is a good idea, Sir,” he started but

Simon cut him off.

 

“Come on, detective,” he snapped. “You need to cut those apron

stings sometime.” The big police captain headed towards the bank of

elevators. “You can still tuck him in if you feel the need,” Simon called over

his shoulder. He almost missed the look which passed between the sentinel

and his partner but seeing it only firmed his resolve, there was no way he was

relenting. Blair Sandburg needed to learn to stand on his own two feet. For

the past year he’d tagged along with Jim, constantly underfoot. Banks was

determined to teach him a little independence. It would do the kid some

good. 

 

 

“Maybe I need tucked in.” Jim’s soft words barely registered as Banks

walked away.

 

“Hey, Crawford we’re roomies,” Blair called with overly bright cheer

to one of the newer officers. He gathered his bags and hurried to catch up

with the young man stepping onto the elevator. Almost immediately

Sandburg had the group grinning, patting him on the back with teasing

affection. Blair seemed able to fit into any situation but worried eyes stared

out at the older man just before the doors shut.

 

“You coming, Jim?” Banks punched a button and stood waiting. 

 

Ellison sighed, unprepared to call his boss on this - yet. He’d wait to see how

the conference played out. It was the first time he had dragged Sandburg

along to one of his professional meetings. He’d sat in on anthropology

conferences more times than he’d ever wanted, tagging along with Blair and

his friends, not feeling too out of place thanks to his partner’s ability to make

everyone comfortable. He’d had the same idea in mind when Simon invited

him to join a group of detectives attending a huge Special Weapons briefing

in Kansas City.

 

Missouri wasn’t exactly the center of a cultural revolution but damn

they had the best barbecue in the western hemisphere and he’d envisioned

wandering down to Gates or Arthur Bryants with Sandburg in tow just to

sample it. Or they could check out the ritzy Plaza area then saunter over and

take a look at the trendy Westport nightspots. Whatever they did Blair made

every experience so much fun, Jim found himself looking forward to all kinds

of things just to see his partner’s reaction. He shook himself, it wasn’t like

they weren’t going to see each other, damn they were only four floors away. 

Still, sharing a room with Banks wasn’t what he’d had in mind. Simon

opened the room and quickly claimed the bed nearest the window. Jim bit

back his complaint. He liked to be close to the window, it was just one of his

quirks and Blair would have known that.

 

“Wow,” Simon whistled, “look at that view. What the hell do you

think that is?” He gestured towards what looked like four twisted sculptures

soaring above the downtown skyline. Jim stared at the strange sight and

would have commented but at that moment lightning split the sky, searing his

sensitive eyes. Thunder roared overhead and it was all he could do to stay on

his feet. Minutes passed, Jim fought his way back to his surroundings only to

hear Simon still talking. “……a great place. My aunt lived down on Troost

when I was a boy.” Banks turned away never even noticing Ellison’s

distress. 

 

Jim mumbled something and began hanging up his clothes. For an

instant he expected some remark about his compulsive neatness and when it

didn’t come found himself once again missing his partner. Simon proved to

be a difficult roommate; he hogged the remote, he used three towels when he

showered and his shampoo and cologne seemed designed especially to irritate

Ellison’s sensitive nose.

 

“You mind if I open this window, Simon,” Jim asked once they had

settled in for the night. Banks lay sprawled on his bed, channel surfing and

eating the remainder of a vending machine bag of jalapeno flavored chips. 

The man ate more than he did, room service had delivered a burger and fries

then he’d taken a trip down the hall with a pocket full of change and returned

with a junkie’s happy meal. Jim concentrated on control, his head felt as if it

were splitting and the overpowering aroma of the chips had begun to knot his

stomach. The storm still grumbled overhead but he much preferred that to the

stench of greasy food. Ellison longed for the quiet Blair exuded whenever

Jim was feeling ill. His guide had perfected some kind of magical vibration

or something. Jim couldn’t count the times he’d come home with a raging

headache or on the verge of being sick and been treated to Blair’s gentle

ministrations. Blair would mix up some concoction, all the while chattering

on about a million things and before he knew it the pain began to fade. 

 

“It’s too wet out there, Jim,” Simon stated, “just turn the air up.” Jim

didn’t say anything. He pulled back the covers and climbed into bed. “Not

going to watch Sands of Iwo Jima?”

 

“I’m pretty tired, Sir.” Ellison pulled the covers over his head,

instantly regretting the action as the stench of stale cigarette smoke, semen,

and urine hit his nostrils. Gagging, Jim dialed down his sense of smell until

he could stand it. For a long time he just lay there, mind racing on a hundred

different topics. He wondered how Blair was faring with Crawford. Was his

partner and the young detective bonding over a late night flick? A wave of

anger swept over the sentinel. He spreading his hearing out, concentrating

but there were too many people in the hotel. Another ear splitting crack of

thunder made him bite back a moan of pure despair. 

 

Banks shot a look over at his detective. Jim had been even more

withdrawn than usual. A niggling thread of doubt touched the captain’s mind

for an instant; had he overstepped the boundaries of friendship? No, he

wanted to prove to Jim that Blair Sandburg could stand on his own. In the

months since Blair had moved in with him, Jim had become almost

compulsive in his attention to the younger man. Ellison had fallen for the

kid’s line about helping him and in truth Jim was 100% better now than he’d

been in six months. His solve rate had soared, he laughed with his fellow

officers, he’d stopped being such a hard-ass. The changes were good, but

just what kind of hold did Sandburg have on Jim. He’d seen his detective

drop everything and rush out just because Sandburg called needing a ride

home. He’d overheard Jim on the phone just the other day reminding his

partner to take Ellison’s credit card when he went to buy textbooks - just

in-case he was short the cash. Was Blair using him? Did he help Jim with

his senses just to get a place to live and a handout. Banks was startled out of

his musings by a low moan. 

 

“Jim?” He hesitated but when Ellison didn’t answer rolled off his bed

and lightly touched the other man’s shoulder. Clammy skin, pale and slick

with sweat, made his hand slip across the biceps and onto the muscled

shoulder. “Jim,” he called again, slightly worried. Beneath his hand,

Ellison’s arm flexed.

 

“Chief?”

 

“It’s me, Jim,” Banks said softly. “What’s wrong?” Ellison had

barely eaten and what he’d consumed had been the same thing Simon’d had,

that ruled out food poisoning. Panic gripped the captain, what kind of

weirdness would Jim’s whacked out senses drop him into?

 

“Smells,” Jim whispered. “Everything smells.” He tossed fitfully a

moment longer. “Help me,” he begged.

 

Banks stood frozen without the slightest clue as what to do. “I’ll get

you some help.” He dialed Sandburg’s room, irritated when Crawford

answered, laughing. He could hear other voices in the background and

figured they were all down there partying. “Crawford, it’s Captain Banks. 

Send Sandburg up here.” Crawford relayed the message and Simon couldn’t

miss the explosive sound of the door slamming even over the phone. What

seemed like only seconds later an urgent knocking had him answering the

door. 

 

“Sandburg, Jim’s not feeling well.” Simon barely got the words out

before the younger man was beside his partner’s bed. He stood transfixed as

Blair knelt on the floor, one hand on Jim’s forehead the other on his chest. 

He couldn’t hear the words but their rhythm, the focused intensity soothed the

frayed atmosphere in the room. Jim quit tossing, his body relaxing between

one second and the next. His hand found Blair’s head, long fingers tangling

in the curls.

 

“Thanks, Chief,” Ellison said sleepily, “thanks for being here.” His

eyelids fluttered, slipping closed. Simon waited until Blair turned around. 

He wanted to say he was sorry, he’d been wrong. Sandburg might need Jim

for all the things he’d thought but not once had it crossed his mind that Jim’s

need might be just as great - no, greater. How did Jim cope, how did he

survive in a world made too intense for him? What must he have to filter out

the overload and survive the rest? Banks blinked down at the younger man

and finally saw what he’d missed before. Blair met his gaze steadily, his blue

eyes wise to what was going on in the other man’s head. Simon nodded

slowly, conceding the battle. His fear that Jim was being used dissipated,

burned away under the power of Blair’s stare. Sentinel and Guide had

something much deeper than he’d suspected. 

 

“Get your stuff, kid,” he told Blair, “I’ll go room with the others.” 

 

Blair held him with his eyes a moment longer, as if to prove he could.

“He needs me,” Blair whispered. “It’s not a game, it’s not a joke. He

needs me and I won’t leave him.” It had all the solemnity of a vow, and

what Banks saw in the young man’s face once might have shocked him but

now only made him happy for his friend. 

 

A slow smile built on Simon’s face. Doubt washed away under the blaze of 

emotion coming from the kid. “I get it now,” he admitted. “I didn’t before,

but I do now.” He gathered his things and opened the door, but paused there

on the threshold. He looked back, saw Sandburg staring down at his partner. 

A look of sadness skittered across Blair’s face, he seemed to know how lost

Ellison could become but to Simon’s great joy, an equally determined look

settled itself onto his features. Those two were going to have problems, life

seemed destined to kick them both in the teeth but just the fact that they had

each other might be the key to their survival. Banks sent a silent prayer that it

proved true and closed the door behind him.

 

=====


End file.
